


In Your Eyes I See Somebody I Used to Know

by TroubleIWant



Series: Wolf!Derek [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Did I point out the happy ending??, Established Relationship, M/M, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TroubleIWant/pseuds/TroubleIWant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If he was dead, there’d be a body,” Stiles insists.</p>
<p>“You’re holding the body,” Deaton tells him, as gently as you can say that type of thing.</p>
<p>But the wolf in Stiles’ arms is heavy and warm, panting and looking around the vet’s with bright, interested eyes.</p>
<p>“We can change him back,” Stiles says, tangling his hands in the wolf’s rough fur to heave the huge animal back onto his lap. “There’s a spell. Or we can find one.”</p>
<p>Deaton shakes his head. “Stiles, that’s not the problem. The witch severed the magic that made Derek a werewolf while he was fully transformed. When that magic was cut off, his human side was lost too; his memories, personality, knowledge - an animal brain can’t contain those things without supernatural assistance. It is not Derek. Not in any way you would recognize. Even if we could somehow undo the transformation and restore his human form, it still wouldn’t be him. The only intelligence he has now is that of a normal wolf.”</p>
<p>Deaton’s wrong. It can’t be true. Stiles feels his chin trembling, but he won’t break down. Crying would make this real.</p>
<p>“I don’t mean to be cruel,” Deaton says, softly. “But you need to understand. The man you married is gone.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Eyes I See Somebody I Used to Know

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [Walking Felony](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkingfelony) ([DILFwolf](http://dilfwolf.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr) all remaining errors are courtesy of moi.

“If he was dead, there’d be a body,” Stiles insists.

“You’re holding the body,” Deaton tells him, as gently as one can say that type of thing.

But the wolf in Stiles’ arms is heavy and warm, panting and looking around the vet’s office with bright, interested eyes.

“We can change him back,” Stiles says, tangling his hands in the wolf’s rough fur to heave the huge animal back on his lap. “There’s a spell. Or we can find one.”

Deaton shakes his head. “Stiles, that’s not the problem. The witch severed the magic that made Derek a werewolf while he was fully transformed. When that magic was cut off, his human side was lost too; his memories, personality, knowledge--an animal brain can’t contain those things without supernatural assistance. It is not Derek. Not in any way you would recognize. Even if we could somehow undo the transformation and restore his human form, it still wouldn’t be him. The only intelligence he has now is that of a normal wolf.”

Deaton’s wrong. It can’t be true. Stiles feels his chin trembling, but he won’t break down. Crying would make this real.

“I don’t mean to be cruel,” Deaton says, softly, “but you need to understand. The man you married is gone.”

“You need to understand,” Stiles snaps. “If he were just a wolf he’d be trying to rip all our faces off--which isn’t happening, because he still recognizes us. You have no idea what kind of spell it really was or how any of this works. Are you a werewolf? No. So what do you know? I mean, it’s magic. That means there’s always something else to try. Nothing’s just…over.”

“Stiles,” Deaton starts, but Stiles scrambles off the table, herding Derek out of the clinic ahead of him.

“I can fix this on my own,” he insists.

*

There are spells to transform animals into humans and to reveal something’s true form (though those ones seem mainly to apply to inanimate objects). There are spells that reverse other spells, ones that make animals speak, ones that make werewolves feral, and a few that supposedly make them more human.

Stiles makes careful notes, pins them on the wall where he can visualize all of it. Nothing’s too small a clue, from the vague mentions of transformation in ancient texts to the rumors he finds on wiccan forums online. Each plan he works out is  complicated, sure, but he hunts down all the ingredients for the potions, all the right runes for the incantations. He makes a schedule for spells to try, marking his calendar to be sure he’s taking advantage of each full moon or equinox. It takes a long time, but he gets around to each of them, even the most far fetched.

None of them work.

*

“Blink once if you understand me,” Stiles whispers, flat on his stomach and eye to eye with Derek.

He blinks, and Stiles feels his pulse skyrocket. Then Derek blinks again, and a third time, quirking his head to the side in a perfect impression of a dumb animal.

"I love you," Stiles pleads.

The wolf laps at his nose, and he tries to pretend that it means something. That it’s enough.

*

“He’s a wild animal, Stiles. And he’s getting wilder. Do you know this is the third complaint I’ve gotten this month about him snapping at people on the street? I’ve made exceptions, considering the…circumstances. But you can’t keep him like this. At least put a leash on him.”

“He’s not a pet,” Stiles argues, reaching down to stroke the wolf’s head. “It’s still Derek in there somewhere. He’s just…scared, I don’t know. Confused.”

“Stiles,” Parrish says gently, “a wolf is never going to be happy living in the city. They need space to run, and other wolves to…look. Scott and I found this place in Oregon. It’s only three hours north, and they’ll know how to take care of him there. Make sure he--” the deputy breaks off under the weight of Stiles’ angry glare. “Well, just think about it, alright? It’s a nice place.”

He hands Stiles a glossy pamphlet with a picture of a grey wolf standing in front of some trees. “Bennison Wolf Sanctuary,” it says in a stupid font made to look like sticks.

“I’m not shipping my husband off to a fucking nature preserve,” Stiles snarls. Derek, as if sensing Stiles’ mood, echoes the growl.

Parish’s eyes flick down nervously. “Just think about it,” he repeats. “If that wolf actually bites someone, your dad and I won’t be able to help you avoid the consequences.”

“Get out,” Stiles says.

*

There’s a point when not giving up on someone bleeds into denial, Stiles knows that. But it’s a Catch-22. He can’t get over Derek with the wolf in his house reminding him. And he can’t get the wolf out of his house while he’s still in love with Derek.

*

“I slept with someone else,” Stiles says to the wolf, just to see. It doesn’t look up from the bone it’s mouthing at on the living room floor.

“I sucked his dick,” Stiles continues, his voice edging louder. “We were all over each other, Derek. What do you think about that? I loved having his cock in my mouth. He came right on my face and it was so fucking hot. You never made me come as hard as he did last night.”

The wolf glances over, now that Stiles is almost shouting.

Stiles stares hard, looking for any hint of anger, understanding. The wolf perks it’s ears forward, quirks an eyebrow.

“Jesus, fuck,” Stiles mumbles, slouching back into his chair. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the wolf pads over and starts pushing his nose into Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles buries his face in the ruff of fur at the back of the wolf’s neck and tries to pretend this means something. He knows it doesn’t, though. He knows that this isn’t enough.

*

“Can I ask how you ended up with a wolf in your care, Mr. Stilinski-Hale?” Professor Bennison asks. “And how long you’ve kept him?”

“A little over a year?” Stiles mumbles. “He was hurt in the preserve near my house, and when I found him I thought that I could fix it. I really thought I could make it better, somehow, and we could stay together. At a certain point, though, it was just…he wasn’t getting any better. Worse, actually. I thought I could take care of him, but I was wrong,” Stiles finishes in a whisper.

Derek had been antsy and whiny in the car, but he’s perked up plenty now that they’re out in nature. He’s excited about the smell of the forest, Stiles can tell.

“You must be pretty attached to him,” Bennison prompts. “And he must like you, too. Most people would have been attacked if they tried to keep a wolf as a pet for a full year.”

Stiles nods, not trusting himself to speak. He squats down and gives the wolf an awkward half-hug around the neck. At least one of them knows the significance of what’s happening.

“You’re welcome to call or visit to see how he’s doing. Here’s my business card; email works too.”

Stiles makes a noncommittal noise. He’s pretty sure it will never be the right day to come back here and see what’s left of Derek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers with a final pat. He stands up, stuffs his trembling hands in his pockets, and Bennison opens the fence into the preserve. The wolf bounds off into the forest. It doesn’t look back.

*

Their house feels empty without another living being. Stiles misses the routine of morning walks and shopping for fresh steaks each Monday. The second night alone, he finds himself crying as if the witch’s spell just tore through his life yesterday, because in a way it has. The reality is only just sinking in. Loss hits him so hard that he ends up crumpled on the kitchen floor until his legs go numb. There’s no Derek to help him up, not even the wolf to curl up warm next to him and lick at his face.

Sometime the week after, Scott calls. The phone call startles Stiles awake, buzzing under his hip where it had fallen between the couch cushions.

“Whad’re you calling for? Wha’s wrong?” Stiles slurs.

“Just checking in--are you doing alright?”

“What is it, three in the fucking morning? I was sleeping, dude.”

There’s a pause with a sharp edge to it. “It’s lunchtime, Stiles,” Scott says. “Should I come over?”

“No,” Stiles insists. He’d had no idea his schedule had drifted so badly. But now that he thinks about it, he’s let everything drift--showering, taking out the trash, eating.

Then Scott says five words that jolt Stiles into full alert: “Lydia may have found something.”

*

Stiles can see why he didn’t find this one in his research. It’s not really the type of spell he was looking for.

Scott sits across from him on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. “It’s pretty dark,” he says evenly.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

“You going to try it?”

Stiles looks down at the spell for the fifteenth time, rereading. It’s a long shot, and he feels queasy even thinking about it. “Probably,” he admits finally, meeting Scott’s eyes for a second before he has to look away. “Probably, yeah. You gonna try and stop me?”

“I gave it to you, didn’t I? You’re my best friend,” Scott says, casting his eyes around the unkempt, musty room. “And Derek’s still Pack.”

Stiles creases the paper in his hands, equal parts ashamed and excited.

*

Its not something Stiles has much experience doing, exactly, but it’s proximate enough that he’s damn good at it. It only takes a few days to find where she’s living now--Southern California, only a couple days’ drive from Beacon Hills.

She’s not evil, not like Kate was, or even Jennifer. Impulsive, sure, but in the end she’s just a human with a bit of the spark who ended up working magic in the wrong forest and chose fight rather than flight when she got found out. Of course, her version of fight was a bit dirtier than theirs. After they’d subdued her, even with what happened to Derek, Scott had still allowed her to leave Beacon Hills. She’d waltzed off with only a promise that she’d learned her lesson about sneaking into Pack territory, and that she would be more careful about casting dark spells.

Stiles had obviously thought she deserved worse for using magic that way. Considering what he’s there for, though, he doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

He tracks her, waits until he can follow her into a deserted back-street and then he throws the spell in her face. It’s supposed to hook back through her spark and undo everything, burn out all the spells she’s cast in her life. Of course, the other result of the spell is that she burns too. Stiles doesn’t even have to touch her. It’s not a gun or a knife. It’s just a spell, a few spoken words and a handful of powder.

It still feels like murder.

*

Almost 24 hours later and still a day south of Beacon Hills, he gets the call. It’s a good thing he’d given in to exhaustion and gotten a room around dinnertime instead of trying to drive through the night, or he’d probably have crashed the jeep fumbling with his phone.

“Mr. Stilinski-Hale? Dr. Bennison returning your call.”

“Yes, hello, I’m here. Hi.” Stiles clutches the phone to his ear, kneeling up on the bed in the dim room, thrumming with anxiety.

“I’m so sorry to be calling with this news. I’m not even sure what to say, I assure you that something like this has never happened at the sanctuary before.”

“What has,” Stiles demands, terror knifing through him. “What happened?”

“I’m afraid that the wolf you left with us is gone,” Bennison says.

“Gone as in dead?” Stiles asks insistently. “Or disappeared gone?”

“Wolves don’t disappear,” the professor chides, “but…yes, it seems that he’s escaped the preserve. Or that someone has taken him.”

Relief pours through Stiles, closely followed by visions of Derek, wolf or human, wandering in the world at large, lost and confused. He could be anywhere, hurt, dying…

“We think it may be connected to the man we found in the preserve this morning,” Stiles hears, and his heart leaps into double-time.

“Put him on the phone,” he demands. It’s a strange thing to say, probably.

“I’m sorry?” the professor asks.

“De--the man you found in the preserve. Where is he? Put him on the phone, now.”

“I think he’s still at the nurse’s station with the deputy. He seemed quite confused when we found him, or we’d have taken him to the jail to question him. I don’t know if you’ll be able to get any ans-”

“Please, I need to talk with him,” Stiles interrupts. He taps his foot through the professor’s assent, the muted noise of other conversations, doors opening and closing. He stands up to pace around the room, phone digging into his hand, trying to hear even a hint of Derek’s voice in the background over the pounding of his heart.

After too long, the professor comes back on the phone. “He’s still not making much sense, but here he is.”

“Derek?” Stiles asks, breathless.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is scratchy and thick with disuse, but it’s him. It’s him, alive and human and remembering.

Stiles closes his eyes, takes a few deep, shuddering breaths and realizes he’s grinning even though he feels like sobbing too. “Long time no see,” he chokes out, around the lump in his throat.

“Still no see,” Derek bitches. “Can’t think straight. Fuzzy. That man keeps saying I’m in Oregon. Did the wi--uh, is that what the spe--ugh. Is my being in Oregon because of the thing with that person?”

“Basically,” Stiles fibs weakly. Derek has no idea what happened, or how long it’s been. He doesn’t know what this conversation means to Stiles, so he’s just being his normal, grouchy self. It’s as if the witch only had cast a simple transportation charm and nothing more. Stiles couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“Can you come get me?”

“Every time,” Stiles promises, already heading for the jeep.

He can drive through the night for this, drive straight to Oregon without stopping once just to throw himself into Derek’s arms. There’ll be a time, later, to tell him about the lost year. There’ll be time to explain what Stiles had to do to get Derek back, and he knows when he does there’ll be an argument. But for now, none of that matters. For now, everything with the world is finally right again.

"I love you," Stiles says.

"Love you, too," Derek answers, with an easy confidence like this is the one thing that will always make sense to him. For the first time in more than a year, Stiles knows it means something. And that’s more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading! You can find me [on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/troubleiwant) for general flailing and the occasional WIP.
> 
> And now: those of you who were utterly wrecked and need a bit of follow up, click [here for the fluffy follow-up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2340782)! For all those folks who “teared up a little,” “almost cried,” or otherwise were not utterly wrecked? I made [this non-canon ending](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2340737) to fix that, just for you! (Warnings for everything; read at your own risk.)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments much appreciated :)


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